Coocoo cachoo, Mrs Robinson
by ordlas
Summary: From Elena's POV, after Christian announces the engagement. This is my speculation on how she felt and what she did after getting thrown out of the Greys' mansion.
1. The Announcement

WHAT?!

WIFE?!

She's consented to be his _wife_?!

I am stunned. I can't believe what I've just heard.

Right now, I'm grateful for the crowd of people rushing the _happy couple_. I need to escape somewhere and absorb this. I quietly leave the living room and step out the front door. As I lean against the cool brick of the mansion, trying to calm myself, I spy Christian's R8 sitting in the driveway. Oh, yeah, baby, the world is your oyster. Expensive cars, penthouses, vacation home, all the trappings of wealth - they're yours and all because of _me_. _I_ gave you the discipline you needed, you _wanted_, and never got from your _perfect_ family.

I take a deep breath and head back into the house. It looks like everyone has gone to the kitchen, except Mia, who's just left the dining room. She's been talking with Christian's _fiancée_, who's now the only one remaining in there. I seize the opportunity and block her exit, closing the door behind me.

I've had it with this little bitch. She's known Christian for barely six weeks and thinks she'll _marry_ him? I've known him, body and soul, for twelve _years_. I tried reaching out to her, several times, and all I've gotten from her was self-righteous hostility. Well, now it's time she got a dose of her own medicine.

"Ana," I say, making sure I've got her full attention.

"Elena," she responds, trying unsuccessfully to put some force into her voice.

"I would offer you my heartfelt congratulations, but I think that would be inappropriate."

"I neither need nor want your congratulations, Elena. I'm surprised and disappointed to see you here." So she's back on her high horse again.

"I wouldn't have thought of you as a worthy adversary, Anastasia. But you surprise me at every turn."

"I haven't thought of you at all," she counters. _Liar_, I say to myself. I've been your worst nightmare since Christian told you about me. She babbles on.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have much better things to do than waste my time with you." So she's dismissing me? I don't think so.

"Not so fast, missy. What on earth do you think you're doing, consenting to marry Christian? If you think for one minute you can make him happy, you're very much mistaken."

"What I'm consenting to do with Christian is none of your concern." Oh, yes, it is, bitch. Everything he does concerns me.

"He has needs— needs you cannot possibly begin to satisfy."

"What do you know of his needs? You're nothing but a sick child molester, and if it were up to me, I'd toss you into the seventh circle of hell and walk away smiling. Now get out of my way— or do I have to make you?" I can see her getting really wound up and it only fuels my own indignation.

"You're making a big mistake here, lady." I shake my finger at her. "How dare you judge our lifestyle? You know nothing, and you have no idea what you're getting yourself into. And if you think he's going to be happy with a mousy little gold digger like you …"

And before I finish, she's throws her drink in my face. "Don't you dare tell me what I'm getting myself into!" she screams. "When will you learn? It's none of your goddamned business!"

Oh, I am so ready to teach this cunt a lesson she won't forget. But before I can act, the door pushes me forward and Christian enters the room. He looks from her to me and back again, then stands between us, facing me.

"What the fuck are you doing, Elena?" he asks.

"She's not right for you, Christian," I answer him softly.

"What?" he shouts. "How the fuck do you know what's right for me?"

"You have needs, Christian."

"I've told you before— this is none of your fucking business," he roars, now in full-blown Christian Grey rage. "What is this?" he continues, glaring at me. "Do you think it's you? You? You think _you're_ right for me?" He's lowered his voice but now it's acquired a menacing tone.

_Oh, sonny boy, have you forgotten so soon? Time for a reminder._ I draw myself up into my best Mistress stance. "I was the best thing that ever happened to you," I tell him. "Look at you now. One of the richest, most successful entrepreneurs in the United States— controlled, driven— you need nothing. You are master of your universe." He takes a step back. "You loved it, Christian, don't try and kid yourself. You were on the road to self-destruction, and I saved you from that, saved you from a life behind bars. Believe me, baby, that's where you would have ended up. I taught you everything you know, everything you need."

I watch him turn pale; he snarls, "You taught me how to fuck, Elena. But it's empty, like you. No wonder Linc left." He goes on, his voice lowering, "You never once held me. You never once said you loved me."

_So that's what this is about?_ "Love is for fools, Christian," I hiss at him.

"Get out of my house." Grace is in the doorway, her eyes burning with rage, and all of it focused on me. She enters the room and stands before me. Suddenly she slaps me hard across the face, and it sounds like a rifle shot. "Take your filthy paws off my son, you whore, and get out of my house— now!" she spits at me.

I am paralyzed by the shock of what she's just done but after a few seconds my wits return and I make a hasty retreat out of the dining room and through the front door. I climb in my Mercedes and just sit for a minute to regain my composure. To my surprise, I feel tears on my face. I have no idea when that started. I pull down the visor mirror and fix my makeup. That done, I start the engine and head down the driveway.

First things first. I press the Bluetooth call button on the panel and tell it "call Isaac." After three rings, he answers.

"Yes, Mistress."

"Dungeon, thirty minutes."

"Yes, Mistress."

"And you better have a boner the size of the Space Needle or your ass will be raw for a month."

"Yes, Mistress."

"And Isaac, how many rings before you answer my call?"

"Two, Mistress."

"And how many rings did it take just now?"

"Three, Mistress."

"Do you remember your punishment for answering late?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"You know what to do then."

"Yes, Mistress."

I hang up. I'm hoping a couple of hours of taking out my frustrations on Isaac will restore my equilibrium. In the meantime, there's one other thing I can do.

I press the Bluetooth call button again and tell it "call Hamlin." Mike Hamlin is a reporter at the Nooz, Seattle's gossip rag, although calling him a reporter is using the term rather loosely. He's cultivated a relationship with me, mainly due to my chain of salons. Hairdressers hear _a lot_ of juicy gossip and I frequently parlay my knowledge into free advertising with the Nooz and assorted other favors from Mike. He answers my call with his usual breezy voice.

"Hey, Elena, long time, no hear. Whatcha got for me?"

"Oh, Mikey, I think you're really gonna like this one." This is huge and I'm savoring it as much as I can.

"You've got my full attention, babe. Dish!" he commands.

"So which of Seattle's most eligible bachelors just got engaged today?"

"Haven't a clue, Elena. Could be one of a half dozen."

"Hint: he's also the richest."

"No!"

"Yes!"

"Christian Grey?" he squeaks in disbelief. "I thought he was gay!"

I smirk to myself. _You and 99.99% of the rest of Seattle; the other .001% know way better._ "Well, he's not. Or else he's putting up a damn good cover." I say this to keep the illusion going; I get my kicks wherever I can. "He just announced it this evening."

"Who's the lucky girl?" Mike asks.

"Some little nobody," I sneer. "I think she's a secretary somewhere. They've only known each other for about six weeks."

"Is she pregnant?"

"Shit, I don't know. I don't think so but I wouldn't put it past her." That thought hadn't even occurred to me but now that Mike's brought it up, it's rather unsettling.

"How about a prenup?" Damn, I hadn't thought about that either. Knowing Carrick, I'm sure he'll make her squirm about it.

"Don't know that either, Mike." I'm almost home. "Listen, something came up so I had to leave the party early. You've got all I have to tell right now, so have fun with it."

"Thanks, Elena. I owe you one."

"You bet you do! I'll think of a way to collect."

"You always do. Catch you later." He hangs up.

* * *

After a couple of hours of Isaac, I've had enough. He's on the floor next to the bed, in child's pose, awaiting my next abuse. I give him a parting kick in the ass with one of my Jimmy Choos and tell him to beat it. He crawls backwards to the door and lets himself out.

I drop down on top of the bed. Physically, my session with Isaac took the edge off, but emotionally, I'm still churned up inside by the evening's events. I still can't believe Christian's actually going to marry that bitch.

Looking back over the last several weeks, I suppose I should have seen it coming, starting with the fact that he didn't find her through the usual sub hookup scene. When he told me she was a college student he'd met on an interview, I warned him. From the very beginning, I'd always emphasized the need for secrecy regarding anything to do with the Lifestyle. This was especially important for him as his wealth and power grew; the repercussions of public exposure were just too awful to contemplate. Together we'd worked out safeguards against that possibility.

I'd vetted each of the subs he contracted. Prior to the first play weekend each sub had to go to one of my salons, ostensibly to be properly groomed but in reality to be assessed by me. Christian's bullshit detector was in good working order but another woman will pick up things that a man will miss. And even that doesn't work 100% of the time – witness that wacko Leila. So the first warning sign was when he didn't bring her to Esclava for the usual evaluation.

When I pressed him about this he told me that because of her inexperience he was introducing her to the scene slowly. He seemed so concerned about scaring her off and he was so impressed with her virginity. At first I didn't place any importance on this; my initial reaction was that if popping cherries was his latest kink, then that was fine with me. I've always felt virginity was overrated; I'd lost my own, unwillingly, to my stepfather when I was thirteen (a fact I've never told anyone, not even Christian). But Anastasia's "innocence" has become an obsession with him. He's counting her orgasms, for fuck's sake!

Another warning sign was his telling her about me - he'd never told a sub about me. He said she even had a nickname for me: Mrs. Robinson. At first I thought it was cute but eventually I realized the animosity behind it. And it was this animosity that blindsided me. Since it seemed like she really cared for him, I thought we'd both be on the same side. But she rebuffed all my attempts to communicate with her. And Christian sided with her. That hurt the most – after all of our history together, after all I'd done for him, he can just dump our friendship because of her.

I'm really riled up now. I take a quick shower, put on some comfortable clothes, and pour myself a drink in the living room. The alcohol helps but I still continue brooding. My thoughts turn to Grace.

_Doctor_ Trevelyan, with her Yale education. A fat lot of good that Yale education did her when her son was running wild. I know that children need discipline, even if they've been abused. But whenever I mentioned this to her she just blew me off. What did I know? I was just a hairdresser and a trophy wife – she went to _Yale_. "Oh Elena, he's been through so much. He just needs love and understanding. Carrick and I are making sure he sees the best therapists." Even when I turned his life around, stopped the brawling and the drinking, they were too stupid to make the connection.

And Carrick? The match made in heaven? If only Grace could hear half the shit I hear at the salons, she wouldn't think her marriage was so heavenly. Not that I think he'd ever leave her but I'm pretty sure he's not above getting some on the side.

I am now in a full-blown funk. I think about my affair with Christian and about all the excitement and passion we had. Was it wrong? While he was a minor, certainly it was, both legally and morally. But once he came of age, he stayed with me. And I'm convinced that had Linc not found out, we'd still be together. And in spite of the wrong, Christian benefitted so much. Now I don't even have his friendship anymore. He gained and I lost. Zero-sum game.

I need some company. I pick up my cellphone and call the only person I know who'll listen.

"Hey, Linc. It's me, Elena. Do you have some time to talk right now?"


	2. Looking for Sympathy

I'm waiting for Linc at the Zig Zag Café. After all these years, even though he hasn't laid a hand on me since that awful night, he still intimidates me. Part of it is his physical aspect – he's a huge bear of a man. He played defensive tackle for Washington State; besides being big and strong, he was quick as a cobra, qualities that almost got him a Heisman trophy (rare for a defensive player) and a pro career. However, both were scrapped when he got in a car accident his senior year.

So he reluctantly went into his father's lumber business after graduation, then took it over when the old man retired. His callousness in both business and social affairs is the other thing that scares me. He will stop at nothing to get what he wants and will gleefully fuck over anyone who crosses him.

That's why we always meet on neutral ground. Since the divorce, I've never been back to the house (which he kept) and he's never been to my penthouse (which he bought). But in spite of our history, or maybe because of it, I turn to him whenever I feel I've been shit on. Luckily, that isn't very often and right now, I'm just looking for moral support. There really is nothing to be done about the situation and the masochist in me is almost looking forward to his _schadenfreude_. And there really is no one else I can turn to.

"Elena." His voice knocks me out of my reverie.

"Linc," I reply. He pecks me on the cheek and takes a seat.

He orders a Bud lite when the waitress comes; I order a second Glenfiddich and he raises his eyebrows.

"The hard stuff, huh?"

I shrug. He controlled what I drank when I was with him so I guess I take perverse delight in flaunting my freedom in front of him now, not that I was ever that big a drinker.

"So is this about your little boytoy almost going down in flames?"

I give him a puzzled look and he goes on.

"It was all over the news yesterday – 'Christian Grey missing!' wooooo!" and he flutters his fingers in the air, mockingly. "Asshole probably forgot to put gas in the thing. You'd think he was the President the way the media fawned all over the story."

"First of all, Linc, he's not my boytoy anymore; hasn't been for years. And no, that's not what I was referring to, although now that you remind me of it, that's probably what precipitated his announcement tonight." Now it's Linc's turn to look puzzled. I continue.

"They had a birthday party for him at the Greys this evening and he told everyone he's getting married."

"So? If he really is your _ex_-boytoy then what do you care?"

Hmmm, this is going to be tricky. I want to tell him that Grace threw me out but I can't give too much detail.

"I don't, really," I lie. "But somehow, Grace found out about me and Christian and threw me out of their home." There, I've told him the gist of it, now let's see how much more he wants to know. Now that I've said it out aloud, I wonder why I was so stupid. I never should have approached that bimbo at the party. This is what happens when I let emotions run away with me. Never, ever, ever lose control.

"Well, well, well," he gloats, "so you pissed off the good doctor and now she wants nothing to do with you. Why are you telling me this?"

"Frankly, Linc, I was feeling rather down about it and didn't know who else to turn to. She and I'd been friends for a long time; it kinda hurts. I was hoping for a little sympathy."

"You looking for sympathy, Elena? You'll find it in the dictionary between shit and syphilis."

"Thanks, Linc, I knew I could count on you," I mutter sarcastically.

"What did you expect? You fucked her son, her _underage_ son! Don't be surprised if she presses charges, or hits you with a lawsuit. I'm sure she's told Carrick by now."

"She could, but somehow I doubt it. All the publicity would ruin her perfect family image. I mean, really, how could shit like that go on right under her nose for three years without her noticing?"

"I don't know, Elena, you sure as hell fooled me."

"That's different," I hiss.

"Look, it's getting late. I can't believe you dragged me here just to tell me about some cat fight. I'm going home." He drinks the last of his beer and stands up.

"Okay, big guy, then think on this: we're all in bed financially. Christian's got skin in your lumber company and my salons. One word from Grace and we could both be walking the I5 ramps with homeless signs."

For a moment I think I've gotten to him but then he brushes me off. "Maybe _you'll_ be walking the ramps, babe, but I sure as shit won't. Besides, you've still got most of your looks. Find yourself a sugar daddy and your problems will be over. Oh wait, you had a sugar daddy but it wasn't enough. Ah, them's the breaks, kid."

"Fuck off, Linc."

"Ciao, baby." He leaves and I'm now in worse shape than when I came in. Slowly I finish my drink, then take a cab back to the penthouse. Once there, I put on my nightgown and go to bed, where eventually the alcohol and fatigue take their toll and I fall into a not-so-restful sleep.

* * *

Sunday morning I wake up late and the events of the last couple of days hit me like a tsunami as soon as I open my eyes. The drinking last night was a big mistake because now I really feel like shit. I decide to have a light breakfast, then summon Isaac for a session in the dungeon but quit after an hour. I head to the gym, hoping that will improve my spirits.

After a two hour workout, I go back home, change clothes, and then drive out to the suburbs for some lunch. I follow that up with retail therapy in one of the malls but even blowing several grand on clothes does nothing for my mood. And I still have the evening ahead of me.

Once I'm home again, I have a small salad and a glass of wine for dinner. The TV is broadcasting the local news; the social segment leads off with the announcement of Christian's engagement. _Fuck!_ I quickly change the channel. Oh shit, AMC is airing _The Graduate_. Succumbing again to the masochist in me, I leave it on. Hard to believe Anne Bancroft was only 36 when she made this movie – just a couple years younger than I was when Christian and I started our affair.

My digital world has been strangely silent – no texts and the only emails I've gotten are from retailers. This does not bode well. I go to bed, wondering what the start of the workweek will bring.

* * *

Monday morning I head to my office at the main salon. I can monitor appointments for all salons from my pc and note with some alarm that I've had a dozen cancellations for the week. So the fallout has started – the ramifications of my expulsion from Grace's social circle.

To top it off, one of my stylists is sick and I have to take all her appointments. At least it will keep me busy and my mind off the weekend's events and my current predicament. Unfortunately, one of the clients is Rachel Horowitz, Seattle's most infamous _yenta_. She starts her probing as I'm doing her combout.

"So, Elena, I heard you and Grace had a fight and she kicked you out of her house."

"It's nothing, really, Rachel. We just had a little disagreement."

"Disagreement?" she scoffs. "I heard you _shtupped_ her son!"

"Rachel! Do you really think I would do such a thing?" _Admit nothing!_ I manage to distract her and change the subject. And so goes the morning.

I have lunch and continue with the afternoon's appointments. In the middle of another combout my cellphone rings with a call from Noel Liebner, my attorney. My heart is in my throat as I answer it.

"Hey, Noel. What's up?"

"Elena!" he shouts, "looks like you've won the lottery. I just got an email from Christian's attorneys with a shitload of documents to review. Looks like he's bowing out as silent partner and handing over controlling interest in Esclava to you, free and clear."

"What?!"

"I haven't had a chance to read everything but from what I can see, he's divesting. I'll let you know when the paperwork's completed. Congratulations!"

"Thanks, Noel. Let me know what I need to do."

"Will do, Elena. Talk to you later."

I pocket my cellphone and continue with my client's combout, although all I'm doing is going through the motions. So this is it. The affair ended, the friendship ended, and now the business relationship is ended. I am numb.


	3. Getting by

Christian's divestiture means paperwork and meetings for the next week or so. Although management of the business has always been in my total control, I've used GEH resources for things like web and email hosting. I now have to scramble to find my own providers, in addition to stepping up marketing to make up for the loss of clientele.

Also during this time, through Mike Hamlin, a couple of my stylists, and the media, I learn of Christian's wedding plans. It looks like he's in a hurry since it'll take place in just over a month. Of course, this fuels the pregnancy rumors, and I just play along whenever I hear them. I personally know that Christian was very fastidious about contraception with all of his subs, and I'm sure that he's not eager for parenthood, even if the little virgin might be.

The slump in appointments eventually turns out to be temporary; as much as Grace's friends may hate me, my salons are the best in Seattle and they quickly learn that my competition leaves much to be desired. Also, several in her circle are somewhat miffed that they are not invited to the wedding. It seems Anastasia wants an intimate little affair, so this will not be the social event of the season.

I decide to take a break and schedule a trip to Hawaii for the week after the wedding. It's the soonest I feel I can comfortably get away from the business and the fact that it coincides with their honeymoon is just icing on the cake. Right now I feel an urgent need to be very far away from Seattle. Maybe I'll even check out the possibility of relocating.

The night before I leave I have a vivid nightmare.

_I'm standing in a luxury hotel suite and I hear water running. The bathroom door opens and Christian emerges wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his middle. He walks toward me, holding something. He hands me a jeweler's ring box. I open it but there's nothing inside._

"_It's empty, like you."_

_I look up and it's not Christian, it's Linc and he has the most malicious grin. He grabs my arms and starts squeezing me with those bear paws of his. I try to get away but he keeps squeezing harder and harder. I can't escape and now it feels like he's going to break my arms; the pain is excruciating. Finally, I scream._

"_STOP!"_

I wake up shaking and grabbing my arms. What the fuck just happened? I haven't had nightmares since the divorce. In fact, I rarely remember my dreams but this one will stick with me for a long time.

* * *

A couple weeks after I'm back, I have lunch with Mike Hamlin. He's kept in touch with the paparazzi who covered Christian's honeymoon. Mr. and Mrs. Grey were very secretive about their plans but it looks like they took a European tour, since they were spotted in England and France.

And it looks like the little woman is turning out to be quite a handful, according to Mike.

"So this guy Bernard is one of my contacts in Europe. I give him names whenever a Seattle bigshot travels there and he fills me in if anything interesting happens. Christian didn't divulge his plans and he travels on his private jet most of the time. But Bernie heard of this mega-yacht that's owned by a rich Brit being rented by some rich American, so on a hunch he checked it out and bingo! it belongs to our billionaire."

I'm not sure if I want to hear this but I let Mike continue.

"Well, Bernie has a couple of photographers monitor the beaches in Monaco near where the yacht is anchored and sure enough, one afternoon the newlyweds decide to do a little sunbathing. The beaches in Monaco are topless but Christian ain't having none of that for his new bride, her tits are covered up and she stays under an umbrella."

That sounds like Christian; I remember from our discussions how possessive of her he'd become. If he had his way, he'd keep her locked up in the playroom.

"They decide to go for a swim and play a while in the sea but then he swims off on his own. She goes back to the beach and _takes off her bikini top!_ She lays down on her front so you can't see anything but she must have fallen asleep because then she rolls over.

"One of Bernie's photographers, Andre, seizes the opportunity and snaps off several pictures of her. But before he can transmit them to Bernie these two guys grab him, take the camera and destroy it, and then rough him up.

"After they leave, he watches the beach to see if anything else goes down. Sure enough, Christian comes back and looks like he'd like to beat the shit out of her. She covers up and they head back to the yacht.

"Andre goes to the police to see if they can do anything about his camera and his injuries but they play deaf, dumb, and blind. Besides the fact that paparazzi are the lowest form of life there, they're not about to piss off some rich American.

"So the next day Andre spots them shopping in a nearby town. Since he's wearing a disguise he can get pretty close. In her own way she's kinda hot so he really checks her out. Then he notices marks on her wrists and ankles. They were pretty much hidden by her watch and sandal straps but he was looking _very_ closely.

"He sees them go into a jewelry shop and when they come out she's wearing a bracelet that covers the bare wrist. So I guess our guy really was pissed by her topless antic."

Mike goes on with other gossip but my mind dwells on this incident. It looks like Christian came up with a suitable punishment for her. For all I know, they may even have some sort of playroom on the yacht. There are many contacts in the Lifestyle over on the Continent so it wouldn't have been hard to find something to accommodate his tastes.

I'm surprised, though, that he left marks on her. It reminded me of when I first subbed for him. He'd used handcuffs on me then, too, and left the same marks. When he first became a Dom on his own, he sometimes slipped and left marks on his subs but as he perfected his control it almost never happened.

This is the only real insight I've gotten into their life since we broke contact. Through the grapevine I've heard about the mansion on the coast that he bought so it looks like they'll be leaving Escala.

Then I start to hear rumors of some nasty shit going down. It seems the helicopter incident was an act of sabotage, not an accident. And there was also a fire of suspicious origin at his office building. I wonder if these events are connected and if so, who could be behind them. There's no shortage of enemies that Christian's made in his rise to the top but I can't imagine anyone would be so stupid as to take on a billionaire, especially _this_ billionaire.

In late August, the news is full of reports about a break-in at his penthouse. Details are sketchy but it looks like someone posing as a delivery man managed to bypass security and get in. What he planned to do there is unclear but there is plenty of speculation about it, mainly concerning Anastasia.

But just as quickly as the news hits the airwaves, it dies down. The GEH media machine has obviously taken control.

* * *

My life has settled into a dull routine. My time is primarily occupied with Esclava. Isaac is still around to ease tensions. My social calendar has been very quiet; I'm pretty sure this is fallout from the rift with Grace but it could just be the slow social scene that happens every summer. As fall approaches, I'm checking to see if things start to pick up.

The local gossip rags are full of stories about Ana and Christian. It seems they've become Seattle's Duke and Duchess of Cambridge – every trade association banquet or fundraiser they attend is mentioned. He's also taken her to his Aspen home. There are rumors of an incident at a nightclub there but details are sparse.

I don't know why I torture myself reading this shit but I can't help it. And I'm surrounded by it at the salons – people are following their every move.

In early September, through the Lifestyle rumor mill, I hear about an episode at Ana's office involving two of Christian's ex-subs, Susannah and Leila. Oh, what I'd give to have been a fly on the wall at _that_ meeting. Evidently Christian went ballistic when he found out, storming the office and firing one of Ana's bodyguards. I know Christian had been supporting Leila after she went looney tunes so why the fuck she'd risk that by confronting his wife is beyond me.

About a week after that happened, I'm closing up the salon. My head is full of management details that I need to deal with – suppliers, marketing, bookings. I may need to let go of a couple of stylists. I'm thinking of having a nightcap when I look up and there he is.

"Hello, Elena."

Shit.


	4. In Vino Veritas

"Hello, Christian. This is a surprise. Are you okay?"

"Yes. No. I don't know." He starts running his hand through his hair.

"I was just thinking of going for a drink. Care to join me?"

He looks undecided, but then shrugs and says, "Sure." There's a place around the corner that he knows, so we go there and order a bottle of wine.

"Salud." We clink glasses.

I start. "Listen, Christian, I'm sorry for the way I behaved at your birthday party. Your announcement shocked me and I lost control. I should never have said the things I did."

"I said some mean things, too, Elena. I could tell that I hurt you and I apologize. But you have to understand, Anastasia is my life now. She has been since I first met her. I wish you two could at least get along but that's not ever going to happen."

"I know. I just wish I understood her hatred, Christian. I tried reaching out to her but all I got from her was venom. Or else she went running to you and then you got pissed off at me."

He sighs. "The problem is that for Anastasia the world is black and white. I was underage, you fucked me, ergo you're evil. Period. End of sentence. I've tried to make her understand the ways that you helped me but she won't accept it. She thinks you robbed me of my youth. She doesn't grasp what a fucked-up mess I was before our relationship."

"Christian, the age of consent in Washington state is sixteen. So, yes, technically, it was child molestation, briefly, while you were fifteen. But look at it this way: if a twelve-year-old can be tried in this country as an adult for murder, why can't a fifteen-year-old pick a sexual partner? I never, ever forced you. You came - pardon the pun - quite willingly. I was fucked up, you were fucked up, we got each other through some rough times. I'm not saying it was right but looking at you now, I'd say a lot of good came from it."

He closes his eyes and smiles. "I probably would have been one of those juveniles tried as an adult if it weren't for you."

"I remember my frustration listening to your mother when she'd tell me about the latest trouble you'd gotten yourself into. The only solution she and Carrick ever came up with was to find you another therapist. I tried suggesting that you needed more discipline and structure in your life but she always dismissed me. And really, what did I know? I had very little education and I didn't even have kids of my own.

"And speaking of your mother, I'm really sorry she found out about us, especially the way it happened. She helped me, too, you know. When I first married Linc and got swept up into Seattle's social circle she befriended me. I didn't come from money and didn't know shit from shingles when it came to society functions. She made things easier for me." Christian worships his mother so I don't tell him how often I felt belittled in her presence. She was always gracious but there were times she could be really arrogant. Still, I do miss her friendship. "My social calendar's not as full now as it used to be."

He snorts. "I imagine not. The world's pretty black and white for my mom, too. She really laid into me at the party after you left. I've never seen her so angry. It's a good thing there were so many other people around."

"I don't think it would have mattered. Your mom's very popular in Seattle, Christian. Most people would rush to her defense. There was a significant drop in appointments at Esclava right after the party."

"Really?"

"Yes. That Monday morning I checked the schedule and there were at least a dozen cancellations. Then in the afternoon I got the call from my lawyer about your relinquishing control. Thank you for that, by the way, but at the time it seemed like a dubious gift. I'm grateful now, of course. Things rebounded once my customers got sampled the competition. We're still struggling but I'm pretty sure we're going to make it."

"I promised Anastasia I'd sever all ties with you. It seemed like the least I could do."

"And yet, here you are. How are you liking married life? It seems like you're giving up an awful lot for her."

He takes a long time formulating his answer. I can see the struggle going on in his mind. Then he starts, "It's wonderful and it's difficult. I love her so much and every morning that I wake up next to her is so astonishingly breathtaking that I almost can't believe it's real." His eyes are glowing and I feel a pang of jealousy. He continues, "And she loves me. That's what I find most unreal."

"Christian, don't start." Not again.

"I know. I'm working on it. She tells me over and over how good I am; it's just that after a lifetime of believing I was shit, it's hard to change.

"But even though I love her it's tough to adjust to the lack of control with her. With the subs, everything was spelled out in the contract and I knew what to expect. With Ana, we can be going along just fine and then out of the blue she'll do something outrageous. Like on our honeymoon, when we went sunbathing in Monaco. The beaches are topless and she wanted to take off her top but I told her no. After I came back from a swim, there she was, sleeping barechested, for all the world to see. She couldn't understand my anger until I asked her how she'd feel if her mother and father saw pictures of her like that; she knew there were paparazzi around. Then she was all contrite."

I don't tell him I'd heard of the incident. I'm not surprised at his anger; one of the qualities he valued most in his subs was modesty outside of the playroom. He must have been absolutely livid when he saw her like that. No wonder he left marks on her later.

He continues, "A couple of weeks ago I had to go to New York. She wanted to meet her friend Kate after work. We were having a security issue at the time and I told her I wanted her going straight to the apartment after work. She agreed to it. Next thing I know, one of her bodyguards is telling me they're in a bar.

"I cut my trip short and flew back that night. When I arrived home I found out that someone had broken in. Because she was out, security was understaffed at the apartment; luckily the guard who was there caught the perp but it could easily have been a disaster. When I asked her why she went out when she told me she wouldn't, you know what she said? 'I changed my mind! That's what women do!' As if that was a good enough excuse for putting herself and my staff at risk! It's shit like that I'm having trouble dealing with."

I can see he's getting worked up. We're almost finished with our bottle of wine so I order another. He goes on.

"Another thing, I'm realizing more and more how jealous she is. Early on, when I was trying to get her to sign the contract, I told her she could talk to one of the other subs and she got very snippy with me. I called her on it but she clammed up.

"She hasn't said so in so many words but I can tell she's jealous of Leila, mainly because I'm supporting her until she's on her feet.

"And recently, she told off Gia Matteo."

"Elliott's architect friend? Didn't they have a thing going?"

"Yes, briefly. I don't know if you heard but he's engaged now – to Ana's friend Kate." He makes a face.

"I did see that in the society pages." I remember what a player Elliott was; he'd gone through quite a few of my younger hairdressers.

"I've bought a place on Puget Sound and Gia is handling the plans for the renovation. Ana sensed that Gia had the hots for me and thought she should be put in her place.

"I don't know what I can do to make my wife understand that she has no reason to be jealous. It's her and it will always be her. And most of all, she's jealous of you."

"Christian, I've never given her cause to be jealous of me since you met her."

He shakes his head, "I know, I know. I've told her that time and again. The problem is all the history you and I have."

"We do have some history, don't we?" I smile at the memories.

"Yes, we do" and now he's smiling, too, "I remember when my car was in the shop and my parents were out of town. You picked me up from school in your convertible. Next day in class all I heard were comments from the guys about the MILF with the cool ride. They were so clueless. And that's when I knew for sure how you'd changed my life – a year or two earlier and I'd have beaten the shit out of them for cracks like that. Instead, I controlled myself and just smiled and thought about what we'd done that afternoon."

"Remember your apartment in Cambridge? Looking back, I think that's what started making Linc suspicious. I kept coming up with excuses for trips to Boston and New York."

"And I remember how pissed my dad was when I told him I wasn't going to pledge. I had absolutely no desire to live with a bunch of adolescent frat weenies but he ranted on about how important it was for future business connections. Little did he know. You were the most important business connection for me when I left Harvard. You believed in me, Elena, and you backed it up with cold hard cash."

"I saw it in you, Christian, back when you were a brawling teenager. I knew if you'd only channel that anger and that energy, there was no limit to how far you'd go. And I was right."

"I'll always be grateful for your help. As it turned out, conquering the business world was a piece of cake compared to marriage. As much as I love her, it's so frustrating when she behaves so irresponsibly."

"I don't know what to tell you, Christian. Marriage isn't always easy, especially when it's between two very headstrong people." I don't want to tell him that his wife sounds a little immature; I'm sure he would not take kindly to any negative comments about her.

"She certainly is headstrong. And she wants to have a family – you can't imagine how much that scares me."

"Why?" I ask him.

"Why?" he repeats, "besides the fact that I'd stop having Ana all to myself, what kind of father would I make?"

"Whatever kind of father you want to be, Christian."

We're halfway through the second bottle of wine and I'm starting to feel the alcohol.

"Look," I tell him, "it's getting late. You want to finish this discussion at my place?" I reach over to take his hand. He pulls it away as if I had the plague and I see the horror in his eyes.

"Elena, no! I'm a married man now and I love my wife. I'm grateful for all you've done for me but this is it. We can't see each other ever again. I hope some day you'll find someone who'll love you and take care of you. Have a good life."

So this really is it.

"I see. Well, right now, Isaac fulfills most of my needs so I'll have to make do with him. For the record, I've never touched another minor, at least not since I've been of age myself. Except for you, I've only been with consenting human adults. And just so you know, I did love you. We were both too broken for me to tell you back then. I wish you all the best and I'll always cherish the memories of our time together. Goodbye, Christian."

I stand up and make my way to the door. I notice a man with short red hair and earrings sitting in a corner. I think I'd seen him there when we arrived and I know I caught a glimpse or two of him while we were drinking. He seems to be staring at Christian but then he turns to me and winks. It's not a friendly wink and I feel a chill run down my spine. I hurry out of the bar.

The cool night air helps clear the mental haze from the wine. I decide to walk for a while, giving myself time to sort out my feelings. One of the best chapters of my miserable life has ended and I'm sad. As endings go, it was rather civilized but I wish it didn't have to be this way. Even though I had the last word, I feel the urge to send him one final missive. I take out my cellphone and send him a text: *It was good to see you. I understand now. Don't fret. You'll make a wonderful father.*

Back at the penthouse I don't feel like going to bed yet. I pour myself a couple of fingers of scotch, go out on the balcony, and stand at the railing looking down. It's late but there's still a fair amount of traffic on the streets below. I think back on Christian's last words – have a good life – and I wonder if there's any chance of that. Is it worth even trying? Then I think of what he said at the party. Yes - I'm empty, barren. It would be so easy just to lean over and let go.


	5. Looking back, looking ahead

I linger at the railing, sipping my scotch, the night breeze stroking my face. The pity party is in full swing right now. Looking back, it seems like so much of my life was shit: the shithole town in west Texas where I grew up, the shitfaced father who left us, the _puta_ of a mother who had shit where her spine should have been, and finally, the shit-assed fucker she chose for her second husband. Somehow I managed to escape it all but not before Julio left his mark on me. I shudder at the memory of his ugly paws on my body, pinching and slapping, then his weight grinding on top or behind me, according to his whim.

It was a miracle I lasted through high school graduation. As soon as I got my diploma I couldn't leave that rathole fast enough. I made my way to Las Vegas, which was an improvement, but not by much. I got into the BDSM scene there. Maybe because of the way I was introduced to sex, maybe for whatever other deep psychological reason, I found I enjoyed it. I even thought of becoming a professional Dominatrix but decided there were too many risks.

After a quick course in blackjack dealing, I worked at that while I went to beauty school. Once I got my cosmetologist license I started at the salons on The Strip, working my way up until I got a job at Caesars Palace. That was where I met Linc; I got called to his suite for a manicure and he liked what he saw.

When Linc brought me to Seattle I thought my troubles were over and in many ways they were. But life was not idyllic, especially after the miscarriage I suffered. Linc was distant and cold. He was away much of the time and wouldn't allow me to have a job. Dabbling in the Seattle BDSM scene helped relieve some of the boredom but it wasn't enough. Neither was the social whirl of Grace and Carrick and their endless round of fundraisers.

Then Christian came along and I felt alive for the first time in my life. It was thrilling, it was forbidden, and I enjoyed every minute of it. But now that's over and I'm just a washed-up middle-aged hag trying to cling to my youth.

Stop! Enough! I refuse to give in. There are too many people out there who would love to read a news report saying I was splattered all over the sidewalk. I won't give them the satisfaction. I haven't come this far to throw it all away so easily. I finish my scotch, then reach back as far as I can and pitch the tumbler out into the night. Pity party is over. The bitch is back.

It's after midnight but I'm edgy and need some sort of release. I pick up my cellphone and tell it "call Isaac." He answers sleepily and I tell him to be in the dungeon in ten minutes. After an hour or so of abusing him I head to bed.

* * *

The next few days are filled with routine business but when the weekend arrives the news is dominated by the story of the kidnapping of Christian's sister. It seems his wife saved the day although at some cost – she's in the hospital. Mia's unharmed but I imagine Christian must be apoplectic. He pays a fortune for security and I wonder how it could have failed so badly seeing as these are the people closest to him.

Reading the news story I see pictures of the kidnappers. One is a woman named Elizabeth Morgan but when I see a picture of the other one, a man, I catch my breath. His name is Jack Hyde and he's the same man who watched Christian and me in the bar earlier this week. I reread the article but there's no indication of motive; Anastasia worked for him so that seems to be his connection to Christian.

I wonder if I should tell the police that I've seen this man stalking Christian. Besides not being sure it's relevant, I don't want to look like I'm making some pathetic attempt to get back in Christian's life.

As the owner of Esclava, I've made many donations to the police benevolent fund; my point of contact there has been a detective named Maggie O'Malley. I decide to call her and relate what I know; if it's worthwhile she'll pass it along to the appropriate investigators, if not she'll let it drop.

After playing phone tag for a couple of hours we finally connect and I give her my information. She thanks me and tells me she's not on the case but she'll pass it along to a detective named Clark, who's in charge of the investigation. If he has any further questions I'll hear from him directly.

My social calendar has started to pick up from the summer slowdown and the fall from grace (so to speak). I have two fundraisers this evening and as I'm getting ready for them I get a call from Detective Clark. I tell him about seeing Hyde at the bar the other night and he takes note of my information, stating that he'll call me if he has any more questions.

Sunday is relatively quiet; I have a workout session and an Isaac session, then spend the afternoon reading. I get another call from Detective Clark.

"Mrs. Lincoln?"

"Yes?"

"This is Detective Clark. Sorry to bother you again but I just have a few more questions."

"Okay, go ahead. What can I help you with?"

"Well, Mrs. Lincoln, I'm just a little confused. You said you were with Christian Grey in a bar last Tuesday night, right?"

"That's correct." Where's he going with this?

"And what exactly were the two of you doing in this bar?"

"We were drinking, detective. It's a very common activity in a bar." He's got me confused now and it's pissing me off.

"I see. Is that all the two of you did?"

"Look, detective, you can drop the Columbo act. If you want to say something, just say it." I really don't have time for this bullshit and my patience is wearing thin.

"Okay, then, Mrs. Lincoln. I've been doing a little checking and I'd like to get some clarification on a few things. What exactly is your relationship with Christian Grey?"

"We're very close friends, Detective. Or at least we were."

"What do you mean by that?"

"That meeting was our last. We mutually agreed to part ways."

"I see. And why did you decide that?"

"Because, Detective, Mrs. Grey does not approve of me and Mr. Grey would like to keep his wife happy."

"I see. I'll come back to that in a minute but first I want to ask you about your ex-husband, Henry Lincoln. It seems he seriously beat you up back in 2004 but you never pressed charges. Why is that?"

What the fuck? My patience has vanished and I'm seriously pissed now.

"Look, what does an incident years ago with my ex-husband have to do with any of this, Detective? Am I under suspicion? Do I need to call my lawyer?"

"Mrs. Lincoln, powerful people have powerful enemies. I'm just trying to connect the dots here. You're not under suspicion but it seems like an awful lot of people didn't approve of your 'friendship' with Christian Grey."

"I don't give a fuck what people do or do not approve of in my relationships. Since you'll probably uncover it anyway, I'll tell you yes, Christian and I had an affair. My husband found out and it broke up our marriage. The affair ended but I maintained a close friendship with Mr. Grey until he met his wife. Anything else?" I am barely keeping it under control.

"Wasn't there an incident at the Grey mansion this past summer?"

Oh, fuck, here we go again. "Yes, Detective. Mr. Grey's mother found out about our affair and suggested I leave. His mother and I had been friends for years and now that friendship is ended, too. Is that it?"

"Just one more thing, Mrs. Lincoln, and then we're done for now. What's your current relationship like with your ex-husband?"

Shit, what does this have to do with anything? "Mr. Lincoln and I have been divorced for about five years. From time to time we see each other socially. I would describe our relationship as cordial."

"I see. Well, I think that does it for now. Thank you for your patience, Mrs. Lincoln. If I have any further questions I'll give you a call."

"I'm sure you will. Goodbye, Detective."

I hang up and get ready to hurl the phone against the wall but manage to stop myself in time.

* * *

The workweek starts again with the usual crises facing any small business. I feel like I'm at a decision point in my life. There's no reason for me to stay in Seattle so I'm wondering if I should sell Esclava and move elsewhere, maybe Hawaii. On the other hand, real estate is cheap so if I expand the chain further that would mean more money. For now, though, I continue to concentrate on the daily details.

On Thursday I decide to go in early to my Pike Place Market location. We open there at seven since many of the high-powered female execs who work downtown prefer an early appointment. I get there around 6:15, before anyone else has arrived and sit in my office, going over sales figures and projections. Pretty soon I start hearing activity in the salon as the staff come in and get ready for the day.

While I ponder the data I hear the door to my office open. My employees know better than to enter without knocking so I look up in irritation. Of all people, it's Linc. To say the least, I'm surprised and as I take in his appearance, warning bells start softly in my head.

He's wearing a suit, which is highly unusual for him. Being a big guy he'd always found them uncomfortable, even when they were tailor-made. Besides that, being in the lumber business, he preferred to project the lumberjack image. But here he is in a three-piece, all buttoned down. And he looks like he's put on weight.

"Good morning, Elena."

"Hello, Linc. What brings you here?"

"Why'd you do it, Elena?"

"Why did I do what, Linc?" I have no idea what he's talking about.

"Why did you tell your boytoy to ruin me?"

"Ruin you? I have no idea what you're talking about. I haven't seen Christian in a week and a half. I have no intention of seeing him again. And he's not my boytoy."

"No idea, huh? Isn't it strange that, what, two, three months ago you were talking about us walking the I5 ramps panhandling? And now here I am, without a penny to my name. Thanks to your _boytoy_. But I don't see you on an I5 ramp, no, you're here in your designer office, wearing your designer clothes."

I interrupt him, "Linc, what happened?"

"What happened? WHAT HAPPENED?" he roars. "That fuckface ruined me, that's what happened. Lincoln Timber was completely taken over by GEH and I'm out of a job. Wanna know why I'm dressed like a fucking organ-grinder monkey? Because for the past day and a half I've been going around, holding out a tin cup to every banker in Seattle, trying to get funding to start another business. But no, your _boytoy_ put out the word that I'm untouchable.

"Why, Elena, why'd you do it?"

"Linc, believe me, I had nothing to do with this." I don't have a clue why Christian would do this. And now I have an ex-husband in my office who looks like he's about to seriously lose it.

"I gave you everything, Elena. I took you away from that shitty job and shitty apartment in Las Vegas. I bought you a mansion, hired servants so you didn't have to lift a finger, gave you charge accounts so you could shop to your heart's content. Why? Why wasn't it enough?"

He looks like he's close to tears; I've never seen him this way and now the alarm bells in my head are getting louder. "Please, let's not go through this again. We've been over and over it so many times. Just leave it alone. Do you want me to talk to Christian?" It's the last thing I want to do but if it'll bring Linc back from the edge I'll do it.

"NO!" he roars again. "I WANT TO KNOW WHY!"

I have to find a way to calm him down. "Linc, I wish I knew," I say quietly. "You were gone so much of the time and I was bored and he came around doing odd jobs and one thing just led to another. I don't even understand how it happened myself."

"Yeah, I was gone a lot. I was gone trying to make money so you could have whatever you wanted. But it was never ENOUGH!" He bangs his fist on my desk.

Then I see a grin emerge on his face and my blood runs cold. I saw that grin in the nightmare I had last summer. He starts unbuttoning his jacket and I think, shit, he's going to rape me in my office. I have an alarm button under my desk and I reach for it. His grin widens.

"Sorry, babe, you're shit outta luck. I disabled your alarm system last night. You can scream but help won't come quick enough."

I look down to see that he's finished unbuttoning his jacket and vest. I realize with disbelief that no, he hasn't put on weight. What appeared to be extra bulk is the array of explosives that he's tied around his waist. He has his hand in his pocket; he must have the detonator there. Is he bluffing? I don't know and I don't want to risk it. Being in the lumber industry he has access to plenty of explosives.

"Linc, please. Let's talk this over. What do you want? Please, tell me." I hate the whiny pleading in my voice but I need to placate him.

"It's too late, Elena. It's over. See you in hell, bitch."

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!"

* * *

The Seattle Times

Local News

September 22, 2011 05:15 P.M.

Explosion at Pike Place Market salon

Preliminary investigation shows that this morning's explosion at Esclava, a salon in the Pike Place Market district, was the work of Henry Lincoln, acting alone. Witnesses say that Mr. Lincoln entered the salon around 6:45 this morning, then entered the office of the salon's owner, Elena Lincoln, and apparently detonated explosives he had wired to himself. Mrs. Lincoln was the ex-wife of Mr. Lincoln; both have been confirmed dead. Nearly a dozen injured were taken to area hospitals.

Mr. Lincoln had been president and CEO of Lincoln Timber until recently when it was acquired by Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc. in a hostile takeover. The motive for the explosion is still under investigation.


End file.
